


Charcoal, Crackers and Contemplative Curiosity

by withlightning



Category: Muse
Genre: Gen, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-24
Updated: 2010-09-24
Packaged: 2017-10-12 04:07:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withlightning/pseuds/withlightning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dom wants to capture Matt, wants to remember, to visualise all that he's been, all that he will be and all that he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charcoal, Crackers and Contemplative Curiosity

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This is the first part of a series. I don't know how many parts will the series construct of; only time will tell, I suppose.  
> 2\. I also made a Disney reference. I don't know either, okay?
> 
> 3\. Originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/withthunder/3022.html#cutid1), July 23rd 2010

The thing about being enamoured by Matt is tricky. Not only is Matt Dom's best friend, he's also the most intelligent and socially awkward person Dom knows, someone who's loyal and funny and pure genius in his undertakings; mostly music, because when it comes to relationships and feelings and other things Dom tries to stay away from, Matt can be very short-sighted. That suits Dom just fine - he has an unnamed, unspecified thing for Matt, after all, so Matt being a bit blind is definitely a good thing in Dom's book.

It's not surprising that Dom has developed a thing for Matt, it's hardly his fault or something he ever thought about having, it's just that Matt is everywhere and there isn't much escaping of him and his radiance. It doesn't matter where Dom is or what he does, Matt is always there - if he's not in physical form, then in Dom's thoughts; occupying his mind with frantic rambling and hand-flailing, hysterically beaming laugh and the memories of more sedate, quiet moments between them, when they're just content to be, to just be quiet and share their space; Matt reading whatever book about history or politics or conspiracy theories and Dom drawing; drawing and shading and tweaking, shaping and perfecting.

Dom loves to draw and doodle, paint and sculpt, he always has, from the early days of his life and in school art was his favourite subject, along music - of course - and he misses it sometimes. Misses being in school, misses the feeling of learning new and sharpening his skills and he does think about how his life would be without the band; what he'd do and would he feel as alive as he does, as he has been feeling for more than a decade, and all the interviews and questions about his alternate choice of living makes him wonder about his life sometimes. He knows he wouldn't change a thing and it's not like him to wallow in the past and he doesn't; he just wonders - Matt must be rubbing off on him because he thinks about things like alternate universes and parallel dimensions and billion other Dom Howards living their daily life; some as doctors (because Dom likes people and likes to help them), some as artists (because it's Dom's passion, just like music), some as clerks (because Dom likes paper), some as fathers and husbands (because Dom likes kids; Chris' bunch is awesome and because he, despite what others think, would like to marry one day, given the right person and right moment), some as astronauts (because, whoa!) -- And he's quite sure he's the only Dom Howard who is legitimately a rock star. It's decidedly as cool as it sounds.

Dom's talent and want in art reaches a new level with Matt, and Dom is very aware of his fascination for Matt's animation. The million and one faces he makes daily; the hundreds shades of his smiles, some wide, some quirky, some mischievous and enigmatic, some baffled and disconcerting; the way he talks, how his features change; ears and forehead raising and lowering, brows furrowing, eyes shining brightly. To Dom it seems like Matt never wears the same face twice, that he's constantly on the move, constantly changing, evolving -- And Dom wants to capture Matt, wants to remember, to visualise all that he's been, all that he will be and all that he is.

Capturing Matt, again, is in his agenda at the moment, as well. Dom sits in the far corner of the bus, a crisp image of Matt in front of his eyes: it's tangible and as real as he can think and it's shaping up perfectly on the thick paper; the edges of Matt's face, the softness of his hair, the sleekness of his neck and the curve of his throat. In this particular drawing Matt looks pretty original, a bit incredulous and surprised because of something amusing is being said or done and it's one of Dom's favourite looks on Matt. It's also one of the most usual looks of Matt. Baffled is another one and Dom thinks he has to have at least ten drawings and drafts of that one; baffled Matt never gets old.

He's contemplating the small shade Matt's eyelashes create, right above his eyes, the corners of them wanting to crinkle – but not quite there yet. The next illustration, were Dom to draw it, would feature an almost smiling Matt, lips curling upward and cheeks defined as he'd be in the middle of responding the thing that's forcing the surprised laugh out of him in the first place. He let's go of the drawing, sets it on the table and reaches for his now lukewarm tea. It's still drinkable and Dom sips it a little before gulping all the liquid down and returns the cup to its place on the plate. There's a packet of animal crackers on the side of the table and he looks at them for a moment, thinks about whose they could be because he hasn't bought them - and stretches his back while he snags the box.

Studying the box, he's about to open it and suddenly he hears the door opening, hissing sound of it and someone tumbles in, door closing behind them. Dom doesn't have to wait long before he sees Matt, wearing something that by all means should be against the law but suits Matt all the same, colours and patterns clashing in a horrible, yet adorable way.

"What is that?" He asks bluntly, taking a seat opposite Dom, eyes riveted on the box still in Dom's hand. Dom looks at the packet and shakes it a bit and throws it at Matt, who catches it with ease, as if he was expecting to be thrown at with miscellaneous objects.

Dom suspects Matt is always expecting to be hit with various objects; rocks, bottles, lingerie, space crafts and the likes.

"Oh, animal biscuits, my favourite!" Matt claims excitedly and tears at the box.

Dom knows his look could be described as fond, but he can't really help it. Seeing a grown up man - who, despite all his convincing, is a child inside - ripping a carton box open with long, nimble fingers and tearing the plastic bag broken with his teeth is just something Dom finds himself smiling about. And because it's Matt, piece of the transparent plastic gets plastered on his tongue and in no time he's about to spit on the floor.

"No, you don't," Dom says calmly, sternly, still smiling, because no one spits on the floor of the bus he's living in: that's one of the rules Dom has set and the others will respect his rules, they have so far.

Matt casts him an annoyed look, and he obeys, fingers doing something hideous in his mouth, and in victory he shows the tiny strip of wet plastic between his fingers.

Dom nods and says, "Thank you," and takes a hold of his drawing again, all hopes of getting any crackers flown out of his mind.

Matt flicks the litter on the table and gets an inquisitive look on his face as he's looking for something inside the bag. His hand disappears into the box and after rifling through the biscuits he gets one and holds it on an open palm. Matt studies the figure for a moment and picks it up, "I want to get a tiger."

Dom smiles and nods along, "Right? It'd fit just perfectly with all your chickens and sheep and grapevines."

"Or, I know! An elephant," Matt goes on.

"Sure, tigers and elephants and chickens; all huge, loving family." Dom quips in a wry tone.

"Cheers for your support, mate."

"Yes, I know, I am very cheering," Dom says flippantly, concentrating on the line of Matt's jaw, charcoal staining his fingers. "I can even help you find a safari for yourself in the deepest part of the Africa -- although, I'm not sure about the chickens and their survival rate in the heat and dryness."

Matt grunts and chews on the cracker. "Now you know, that might not be a bad idea. Not where the chickens are concerned, but I could have tigers and elephants and cougars--"

"And deadly, huge spiders and small, poisonous snakes and malaria." Dom interrupts, lifting his head and quirking his eyebrow.

Matt stops still, freezes, and says, "I don't like malaria."

Dom nods and takes in the curve of Matt's jaw, returning to his drawing. "Gandhi, Hemingway and Dante would agree with you."

"They're all dead," Matt replies quickly.

"My point exactly." Dom says without lifting his head, shading the dip of the jaw, finger sliding effortlessly on the thick paper, smudging the charcoal evenly.

Matt grunts in reply, relaxes and reaches for another cookie. "Hey, a monkey!"

"Don't you dare pull " _Michael Jacksons_ "," Dom says and squints at Matt, both in horror and to check the angle of Matt's eyebrow.

Matt shudders. "Not likely," he says and flips the cracker in his mouth. "Oh, now I know," Matt goes on suddenly, all gleeful and shiny eyes. "I could have my own zoo!" And Matt's looking at him, happily and like he's ridiculously pleased with his idea.

Dom just stares at him, drawing forgotten. "You serious?"

Matt splutters and says, "Why not? It could be called _Matt's Zoo_."

"Matt's Zoo?" Dom asks, incredulous, because seriously, _Matt's Zoo_?

"Sure! It'd be combination of farm animals, wild beasts and my touch of brilliance," Matt nods, eyes shining.

Dom thinks about Matt's brilliance for a while and he's pretty sure he has to revise his opinion about Matt's intelligence, again. "Would it include aliens?" He asks, not sure what he wants the answer to be.

And it's like Matt lights up, like a lighthouse in the darkness. "If we can finally find some, yes," he replies, dead serious, glint of something in his eyes that Dom isn't willing to identify.

Dom smiles, because no matter how unhinged Matt is - and there's nothing wrong with being unhinged, Dom has to be a bit crazy himself after all the years spent with Matt and Tom - he's also very likable. "You know," he says, straightening himself into a better sitting position, still holding on the piece of charcoal between his fingers, "it didn't go all that well the last time we tried to get into Area 51."

Matt huffs, "I know, right? Next time I'll be taking my tiger with us. There's no way they won't let us in."

Dom shakes his head and bursts out laughing. "Or then we'll just get another bouncy castle and go wild," he says, smiling.

"You think they've invented tiger-strength bouncy castles yet?" Matt asks and fishes another tiger-shaped cracker out of the box, inspecting it in delight and casting a glance at Dom.

"If not, we'll take that as our new project, get patents and everything," Dom assures, nodding seriously, lips quirking.

There is a moment of contemplative silence as Matt twirls the cracker between his fingers, brows furrowed slightly and Dom drinks in this expression, files it away for further use, returning to his drawing. It's starting to look good, almost finished.

"You, uh, don't suppose it would rather be our tiger?" Matt asks suddenly, with a weird tone of voice. Dom is sure he's heard that particular tone before but he has troubles remembering when and where the last time was.

Dom thinks about this for a minute and says, "Well, the only thing we haven't shared so far are Chris' kids and even they are partly ours. I would like to think a tiger is also ours."

Matt lifts his head and tilts it slightly, eyes narrowing as he looks at Dom, and whoa, what is this, suddenly? Dom's starting to feel a bit uncomfortable because he isn't sure what happened or what is still happening. "That's not what I meant," Matt says in a rush, and continues, "but you're right. I think at least half of his kids like me more than Chris. Obviously they have brains."

Dom remembers how all the kids pile up on him whenever he visits and how one or more of them is always hanging on to him and yeah, he knows they all like him the best. He nods, "They're all very smart."

Matt keeps on looking at him, in a way that makes Dom feel more and more uncomfortable; he's been under Matt's scrutiny before, multiple times, in many occasions – but it's never been like this before. It's like Matt is trying to see Dom's soul, prying his way into Dom's head, and Dom has no idea what brought this on. He isn't backing away; instead he keeps looking back, gaze never wavering from Matt's. More seconds trickle by and they just stare, both frozen and trying to see what the other is thinking, and Dom's brain starts running on its own volition; providing images of what will happen next, and he's sure his infatuation isn't helping matters.

Just as he thinks Matt is about to take a step towards something, saying, "You sure—" The door opens again and they're interrupted. Usually Dom wouldn't mind Chris or Tom walking in, but this is the kind of moment where he wishes they could have locked the door, for he really would have wanted to hear what Matt had to say. Now, though, Matt kind of slumps and sets down the now broken animal cracker; tiger-shaped cookie in three pieces, looking very unwanted and not so recognisable anymore. He glances at Matt quickly before averting his eyes to see Tom standing by the door and watching them with glinting eyes.

"What's this, then?" Tom asks, suave as always.

Matt snorts and says with indifference, "Absolutely nothing," and there is again something in his voice that makes Dom frown. Distaste, perhaps? He shakes the feeling off and returns to his sketch; spreading the charcoal dust here and there, making the picture alive, he carefully swipes his finger over and over across various points of Matt's face, giving it more depth.

"Right," Tom replies slowly, "What have you got there, Dom?" He queries and Dom snaps his gaze on Tom in the speed of light.

He thinks about what to say for a moment and then, "A sketch," he replies.

"Something I'd like to see?" Tom asks and jabs the lock of the door with his middle finger, watching in fascination as the lock gives in and bounces back.

"Not really," Dom answers truthfully and resists the urge to cradle his drawing.

"Hunh," Tom says and addresses Matt, "You coming?"

Matt is still staring at Dom when he looks up; inspective frown on his face - and yes, yet another expression for Dom to file away – and says, "Sure." He rises up from his seat and snatches the box with him, shaking it a bit. Dom is surprised when Matt drops a handful of crackers on the table, next to Dom's charcoal and pushes them forward – and Dom can't help thinking about that scene in _Lady and the Tramp_ , where Tramp muzzles the last meatball, offering it to Lady with affection and sincerity. He smiles and nods at Matt, Tom following their interaction with interest, with a wicked, half-stifled laugh escaping from his throat and Matt gives Tom a disapproving, mock-hurt look before stepping around him and disappearing.

Tom looks after Matt for a beat and then says, "He sure fancies those crackers," and winking at Dom, he follows after Matt, door closing behind them.

Dom leans back, ruffles his hair a bit and reaches for one biscuit, one that's separated from the others, and pops it in his mouth. It tastes like sugar and wheat flour and kind of bland; he knows it's not about the taste as much as it's about the shape of them crackers. Looking at the drawing, he decides it's finished. He grabs his things and stands up, stretching his body and yawns – it'll be yet another busy night ahead of them and he snags a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge, feeling the need for it.

He's about to walk out, but at the last minute goes back to the table and stares at the abandoned crackers on the table, piled messily and he sighs, not wanting to leave them there. Fishing a bowl from the cabinet, he lifts the delicate biscuits inside the bowl and sets them on the table. His eyes get caught on one tiger-shaped cracker and without thinking about it, he takes it, closes his fist around the idea of _their tiger_ and steps out.

  
\- Fin


End file.
